Who is Darien Fawkes?
by chetspet
Summary: Darien tries to establish some outside credit for himself and finds his identity gone. He finds out who his real friends are. A crossover with Forever Knight


WHO IS DARIEN FAWKES?  
CHAPTER ONE  
The Day I Lost Myself  
  
  
  
"I figured it was time for me to do a little branching out on my own without the Agency or my Keeper looking over my shoulder." Trying to explain to my partner how I ended up at his place with cuffs on proved to be more difficult than I thought. He just sat there staring at me as I continue: "So I figured one of the safest, MOST logical things to do was to begin to reestablish a credit line for myself. Not that I ever had a real good one or for that matter, ever needed one. In my former 'line' of work, I usually 'borrowed' other peoples' credit cards."  
  
"That's the understatement of the year, Fawkes." Bobby says. "BORROWED? Is that the new term for stole?" And he stares at me but allows me to continue, realizing I am trying to put all that has happened in the last 2 hours in perspective.  
"So off to the bank I went with nary a care in the world, except for my 'little friend' but the tattoo was all green, so I was OK! I even went to a Bank of America and not the Wells Fargo that the Agency uses.  
  
I went up to the customer service window and was given the form and instructed to fill it out and they could process it right then and there. "Great" I said and smiled at the very pretty young girl, thinking to myself, "I wonder if I could chance asking for a date?" and began to feel almost like a 'real person' again.  
  
After dealing with the Agency and the 'Fish for so long, I had begun to forget what it feels like to be treated as 'a person' and not 'a lab rat' or 'a receptacle." "Man, this is SO weird and a little scary." I thought to myself. "Being here I feel like I was just released from prison."  
  
Bobby interrupts, saying "Darien? Do you think I look at you like that? I don't, you know. And I think Claire is only being aloof because she is afraid to get close to anyone. Believe me, I've tried. You know how I feel about her. YOU are the only PERSON I trust enough to have confided in." And Hobbes looks at me, full of fear.  
  
"No, Bobby, man." I say, to still his fears. "I know YOU are the only one who really cares. I don't know about Claire-she's more enigmatic than anyone, male or female, I've ever met. NO, I feel like you and I are soul mates-I've told you more than I ever even told Kevin, man."  
  
And he says, "OK" and I continue: "As I began to fill out the form, all was going smoothly until I got to the 'former' part-as in former employment, income, etc. "Aw, crap" I said to myself "Oh, well, why not be honest and see what happens? I hope all they can do is turn me down." So I write 'excon' putting all the necessary info I can fit down. I took out my wallet and extracted my license, social security card, as well as the prison info I had, hoping I don't get more flack. As I'm doing this, I began getting second (and third) thoughts and almost ran out of the bank, in fear. "But no, Darien," I said to myself. "You deserve this, even if you do get hassled. YOU deserve to have some real privacy in life, as does everyone." And so I screwed up my courage and returned to the customer service window. Guess I should have listened to that wise little voice, huh?"  
  
And taking a deep breath and accepting a glass of juice from Bobby, I shakily continue "Handing her my stuff, I say, "I don't know if you are the one I give this to, but I am honestly trying to start my life over on the right foot" and I smile my most innocent smile at her; hoping my lips aren't quivering like my insides are and praying I don't go see-through on her. She took the forms and I could see she freaked when she saw my prison stuff.  
Smiling, nervously, all friendly demeanor gone, she said, "Mr. Fawkes, please wait right here." And she went to the branch manager, who summoned me with a nod of his head.   
  
Shaking my hand, he introduced himself as Mr. Franks and said, "Well, Mr. Fawkes, you'd like to try to establish your credit. May I ask what you were in prison for and when?" I told him and he said, "Can you really promise me you won't revert to that line of work again?"  
I answered, " Well, sir, now that I work for the government, I feel like I'm more of a thief than I ever was, only now it's legal." And he laughed and said, "Yes, I see your point. Well, I'll process this right now and give it my personal preapproval. There really shouldn't be a problem. It's hard to believe that a nice young man like you was ever in jail."  
  
Suddenly, Mr. Franks got up and excused himself, saying, "Excuse me, Mr. Fawkes, I need to see about a small matter."   
  
The next thing I know I am being pulled out of the chair by a very mean looking security guard, while Mr. Franks calls the police. I hear him say, "I need the police at the 5th Street Bank of America now. We have just apprehended someone trying to get a credit card with a DEAD MAN'S ID!"  
  
In shock, I plopped down on the chair and said, "Now wait a minute! I AM Darien G. Fawkes! That's my picture on all those ID's, isn't it?"  
  
"Of course, it is. Your lot are always very good at this. But our computers are very good, too. And according to them, Darien Fawkes died in 1968-2 days after he was born. So how can you say you are HIM?"  
  
Still in shock, I say, "Whoa, wait a minute. YOU are nuts-I AM DARIEN G. FAWKES and I'm very much alive. This is a joke, right? Did Hobbes put you up to this? He's the only one I ever mentioned this to. I'LL KILL HIM!" And I looked around, hoping against hope, but no, they were all still very serious and you were nowhere in sight.  
  
Hearing the wailing of the sirens, I quicksilvered and started to run. I got to the alley and desilvered. I could hear the police and bank people yelling; I didn't know what to do, so I quicksilvered and came here. Bobby, I was quicksilvered for almost   
90 minutes straight and I know I went way beyond the rules! YOU gotta help me, man. What the HELL is going on?"  
  
  
  
  
CHAPTER TWO  
THE EXPLANATION  
  
Bobby just looked and said," Darien, partner, I don't know what's going on. But let's get these cuffs off of you." And I look down, just remembering I had them on. I hold my hands up to this short, balding little man with a pickax, whom I trust with more than my life, trying to decide what the hell is going on.  
  
Finally free of the cuffs, I say, "Did you know about this "Dead" stuff? What the hell did they do to me? I haven't even got an identity much less a life! Maybe I'm not even a real human being and don't know it-maybe I'm a robot!" And I grab a knife and slash my hand just to prove to myself I have blood instead of oil in my veins. Bleeding profusely and hurting, I wince and say to Bobby, "Guess I am real, huh?"  
  
Bobby, freaking out, grabs a towel and wraps my hand, which is throbbing with a weird numb pain. "That's about the dumbest thing you've ever done, Fawkes. Of course, you ARE real. I bet the Official did this just to keep extra tabs on you. Nobody can really take away another person's identity, even in the witness protection program."  
  
I look at him, very dejectedly, say, "I hope you are right, man. I mean, why would I have all those ID's and still be paying taxes and able to vote, right? At least, I am still registered to vote. And another thing, why does ALL my mail go to the Agency? Bobby, please get me to the Agency, I have to talk to the Fat Man like yesterday! I HAVE to get this straightened out or I'll go nuts, ok?" "Ok" he agrees.  
  
"But how am I going to get you there-you know the cops are going to be looking for you. And you said it yourself-you are way beyond going QS safely without going nutso."  
  
"I know," I agree, but come to a decision. "Bobby, I have to quicksilver, I have no choice other than turning myself in and getting you for aiding and abetting. I know I only have 4 segments left, but we are less than 20 minutes away from the agency so I should be ok. I'll go right to the Keep and get my shot and meet you in the Official's office, ok? PLEASE?" I beg, pleading for my life.  
  
Bobby, knowing the truth of what I've said, agrees. And so, I quicksilver, feeling the slow oncoming of QSM, and we run to the van. Once in the van, I desilver and say to Bobby, "OK, now listen, Bobby, I'm visible and under the carpeting, so if you get stopped for ANY reason, let me know and I'll shoom out, ok?" Hobbes nods his head in the affirmative and takes off.  
  
Arriving at the parking garage, Bobby says, "OK, kid, we're here. Time to shoom and get to the Keep. I'll wait for you in the office, but I won't let the Fat Man know anything until you get there, ok? Oh, and have her check your hand, Ok?" "Sure," I say, having no intention of letting her even know about it.   
  
"See ya later" I say as I run to Claire, praying I get there in time. Arriving at the Keep, I hear Claire singing a song to herself. Walking in as nonchalantly as possible, I plop in the dentist chair and say, "Hey Claire, time for a fix." and give her one of my innocent smiles.   
  
She, coming over with a syringe, says, "Now how did this happen? You aren't on any case that I know about."   
  
"No, you're right, Claire" I answer, coughing and trying to think of a plausible lie, "I was at home fooling around with the gland and seeing how it felt to be my own guinea pig for a while. Sorry."  
  
Looking like she wants to kill me, but seeming to believe my tale, she injects me. I come back to reality feeling much better and get up to leave, saying, "See you in a bit, Keep," knowing she will soon be called to the office, as well.  
  
Going up to the Official's office, I am well prepared with what I want to say. I am looking for answers. What I am not prepared for is to see a bunch of uniformed cops there waiting for me. I began to inch out of the office and attempted to run, when the Official says, "Mr. Fawkes, please come in. Do not quicksilver or try to run. We need to talk. We can either do this civilized or through bars." And I look to see Eberts standing there in his usual spot, but I see Bobby is sitting in a chair raising his cuffed hands to me.  
  
In defeat, I enter the room and raise my hands in preparation. None too gently, one of the officers cuffs me, causing my injured hand to begin bleeding and hurting. I wince involuntarily. The cop pushes me into a chair, where I just plop and try not to think of what is happening.  
  
As I am sitting there, I suddenly realize my hand is really in bad shape. It is very painful and cold to the touch and I feel very weak and lightheaded. Seeing I am still bleeding quite a lot, I say to the Official, "Sir, I think you better have Claire look at this."  
  
Ignoring me, he calls Claire and instructs her to bring her first aid kit to his office. "Seems Darien's had a little accident." and he hangs up and glares at me.  
  
Bobby, looking at me, says, "Didn't you have Claire check that out like I told you? Man, you are one stubborn puppy. You'd still be there, man, if you had."  
  
Not answering him, I say to the Official, "What is going on? What have I done? All I tried to do was establish some credit for myself and then I find out I don't EXIST!! WHAT IS GOING ON???" I am now pacing the room and becoming agitated, causing the lightheadedness to increase. Finally giving in to this feeling I sit in the chair and wait for either Claire or an answer from Borden.  
  
  
  
Claire enters before anyone starts to talk again. She takes one look at Hobbes and I and begins to question the Official, who stops her coldly with one of his 'stares'. She then hustles over to me and looks at my hand, saying, "What did you get yourself into now, Darien?"  
  
I look at her, knowing she MUST be fully aware of what is happening, and say, "Oh, I was playing with a knife and missed my wrist."  
  
She stares at me in disbelief and says, "WHAT are you saying? You were trying to kill yourself? Darien, why?"  
  
Bobby, seeing her stricken look and hating me a little for it, says, "No, Claire, he wasn't trying to kill himself. He just missed when he made himself a sandwich at my place, right, Darien? Stop teasing the Keeper, I think our situation is a bit too serious, don't you?" And he looks to me, imploring me not to hurt Claire.  
  
Not wanting to hurt Bobby, my only true friend, I laugh and say, "Sorry, Claire. I was just kidding. I guess I'm a little upset, though I don't know why." and I look over to the Official who is very pointedly ignoring the three of us.  
  
Suddenly, the Official looks at me and yells, "WHO do you think you are? Trying to establish your own credit! What makes you think you deserve any, much less need any?"  
  
Confused completely, I say, "Look, everyone has some kind of credit, why not me?"  
  
The Official looks at me and says, coldly, "Because you DON'T exist. You ceased to exist when you agreed to allow your brother to implant the gland in your head. You are a Nonentity, we own you lock, stock and barrel."  
  
In shock, I scream, "NO!! You're wrong! I'm a person-a living breathing human being!!!"  
  
"Yes," the Official says, "You are a living breathing being, but your humanness was taken away when you acquiesced. You must remember signing many consent forms, (I nod yes), but I doubt you read any of them. If you had, you would never have signed 3 in particular, I'm sure. Those 3 are here" and he hands them to me. "Those forms explain in detail how we (the Agency), having underwritten Kevin Fawkes research into the QS-9300 project, own all subjects, human or animal, permanently, including you, DF-37. You are no longer called Darien except in your presence, isn't that right, Eberts?"  
  
And Eberts, unable to look at Darien, says, "Yes, sir."  
  
I look at Claire, imploringly, and say, "Is that true? You too, I thought we had gotten at least past that?" And I can see in her eyes that none of this is making any sense to her, either.   
  
The Official continues 'explaining' my situation to me, saying, "Your life, as you know it, ceased to exist on Aug. 10, 2000. You had proven to be more than worth your weight in gold. You were an invaluable asset to this Agency, DF-37, but all that is now in danger, thanks to your stupidity!"  
  
"Now, wait a sec." I yell, unable to believe what I've just heard. "You say, I am important to the Agency but I am not a person. That doesn't make any sense at all. I mean if I weren't a person, then why would I have a drivers' license, social security card, pay taxes and all?"  
  
The Official, laughing, says, "Oh, those are for show. The only important document you have is your Agency ID. Yes, you pay taxes but not in the real sense. And you don't have a birth certificate or voter's registration or any other legal document. That's what made you the perfect specimen; we had no family to worry about. Your father is the only one and he, being in this line of work, was very easily convinced. So you see, DF-37, you really don't exist do you?"  
  
And I look at him, with tears streaming down my face and whisper "No, I guess not."   
  
"That's the one thing you never realized, DF-37" the Official continues, "You never realized how much you really gave up to the Agency by agreeing to allow your brother to implant the gland. You are not a citizen; you have NO social security number, birth record, or prison record. Your whole life is the price of the gland and the counteragent. You have fewer rights than an illegal immigrant. WE OWN YOU!!! As far as the US Government is concerned, Darien Fawkes doesn't exist, except as the receptacle of the QS-9300 gland. YOU ARE NOTHING!!! You are probably even than nothing, DF-37.  
  
CHAPTER THREE  
REACTIONS  
  
I am totally stunned by everything the Official has said and for a few minutes, I just sit there, unable to absorb it. Finally I yell, "Bullshit!! I don't believe you! What about my Aunt and Grandmother? They are real."  
  
The Official laughs and says, "How long had it been since you last saw your "aunt" and "grandmother", DF-37? They were part of the 'fantasy' we've programmed you with. The only real people in your world are you father and Kevin. Kevin agreed to this and programmed the necessary information into you when he implanted the gland. And your father coming into your life was a mistake, but he has fully agreed, knowing it was the only way to keep his last living relative and son alive."  
  
Bobby, in total shock, says, "C'mon, boss. You can't expect us to believe that line of crap. That is totally ridiculous!"  
  
Eberts, clearing his throat, says, "No, Robert, Darien is not considered a person in any sense." And to prove his point, he shows the team a computer printout confirming all that the Official has said.  
  
Grabbing the readout, I stare at it, trying to make some sense of this. WHO AM I? I look from the Official, to Eberts, to Claire and Bobby and then back to the Official. I then stare at my cuffed hands and say, "Aw, crap. I was hoping this was all a joke or nightmare, but I guess I'm wrong, huh?"  
  
"No, DF-37, this is no joke or dream. You are lucky, though. I have been able to pull strings and get you back under our jurisdiction. But there will be changes made."  
  
And as he is talking, the cuffs are removed from Bobby and I. The officers leave and I get up and stretch, as does Bobby. I quicksilver, figuring to escape, but find the door and windows are locked.  
  
The Official, laughing mockingly says, "Ok, Fawkes, just reappear now. We have much to discuss. I rematerialize and dejectedly sit in a chair and say, "Ok, go on, asshole."  
  
And unexpectedly the Official stalks over to me and slaps my face, very hard, and says, "DO NOT talk to me like that ever again. AND you will address me as sir, from now on. Do YOU understand?"  
  
Rubbing my face, tasting blood, and hating the Official more than ever, I mumble "Yes, sir."  
  
Continuing as if nothing happened, the Official says, "You no longer have an outside apartment. We have taken the liberty of transporting all your belongings to lab #3, your new home. This is far better for observation and security purposes. If you wish to leave the building, you MUST obtain written permission from me, but first your Keeper must always check you out to be sure you will not cause any problems outside. Also you will not be permitted outside privileges without an escort. Also you will be under 24-hour surveillance, no matter where you are, visible or not. Claire will be implanting a microchip in you that will provide this information. Plus you will be involved in experimentation involving the quicksilver gland that our scientific team has thought up. This was the original intention of the gland and I think we should return to it."  
  
At this last statement, I gasp and say, swallowing a huge lump in my throat, "WHOA! Ok, I guess I can handle living here and being a prisoner; I've been in prison before. But NO WAY will I agree to be a lab rat for some God-awful mad scientist experiments. YOU can't make me do it. Right, Claire? Bobby?"  
  
Claire, unable to look at me, says to the Official, "Sir, I don't think Darien is a good candidate for any of the experiments. I've gone over several and most could possibly do more harm than good."  
  
Surprised to hear Claire call me Darien, I look over at her and see that she appears to be genuinely distraught. Unable to decide what is real anymore, I wonder what is going on. And when I look at Bobby, he is staring at me and his face is a study in desolation. He almost appears catatonic, but I doubt it-I'm sure he is more aware than anyone gives him credit.  
  
  
CHAPTER FOUR  
PREPARATION  
  
  
  
The Official looks at Claire and says, "No, Dr. Keeply, I've been assured that the only possible injuries, although grave but not terminal, will be to the host. {and he glances, haphazardly, at me}, but the information learned about the QS-9300 will be invaluable. But, Claire, you no longer are DF-37's keeper, so you no longer have any say. Also we will be assigning you a new partner, Mr. Hobbes."  
  
Almost as soon as the Official says that, 2 operatives are at my side and I feel a pinprick in my arm and sag in the chair. I am transported to one of the sterile labs and the first experiment starts.  
  
Waking up, I find myself restrained and lying on my stomach, with my head lower than my legs. Suddenly I feel something flowing into my rectum and scream. It feels hot and sticky and IS VERY PAINFUL. The flow finally stops, but the pain continues, but it is now in my abdomen and bladder. I look down and see it is bloated. This movement is not only scary but very painful also, causing me to scream in agony.  
  
Suddenly someone is in my line of vision, and I stop screaming long enough to hear, "Stop yelling, DF-37, it won't do any good." And I attempt to compose myself, but can't stop crying, the pain is too great.  
  
Abruptly and not gently, flipped over onto my back, causing the pain to intensify 100%, I am forced to sit up, immediately becoming dizzy and nauseous. Before I can puke, I feel an injection and the nausea subsides, but the pain continues. I am then assisted to sit on the side of the gurney and forced to drink a 16oz. cup of some very nasty thick past its sell-by date tasting potion. Again given an injection, probably to prevent nausea, I am then ordered to get off the gurney and sit in the waiting wheelchair.  
  
I am then transported to my "new home". As I sit in the wheelchair, trying to decide if I should try to get up or not, I hear the Official over the speaker, saying, "Well, good night, DF-37. You've had a busy day, but it is only one of many to come." Realizing he is right and I AM exhausted, I go to bed and try to sleep. I nod off, but sleep the sleep of the haunted all night long. Plus with my stomach still bloated and painful, I could not find a comfortable position no matter how hard I tried.  
  
CHAPTER FIVE  
DAY 2 OF HELL  
  
  
  
I awaken to the Official speaking to me on the speaker, saying, "Well, DF-37, I notice you had a restful night. Good, you'll need it," and he laughs, sarcastically. "You have been fitted with the microchip and also had the start of the first experiment. You drank the monitoring solution, actually the microchip, instead of necessitating surgery. Oh, in case you don't recall, Dr. Keeply is no longer in charge of this project. We have decided to reassign her, due to her 'feelings' for you."  
  
Angry, I yell, "You BASTARD! What did you do to her? If I find out you hurt her, I'll kill you!" All of a sudden, I felt a shock and yelp in pain, falling on the floor.  
  
The Official says, "That is just an example of the punishment for disobedience. And for your information, Dr. Keeply is not hurt. We do have other projects going on for her to work on.  
  
Deciding to try to get up, I try to stand. Finding I am ok, I walk around and suddenly feel the urge to defecate and run to the bathroom.  
  
Feeling utterly drained, but my stomach has returned to normal, I collapse on the bed and almost instantly nod off.  
  
Waking up and realizing I have no idea of the time, I look around. No clocks or calendars anywhere. I turn on the radio and all I hear is Musak, same with the TV, although that is reruns. Even my watch is gone. Looking out the only window in Lab 3, all I see is a grid-we are in the basement. Walking away from the window, I punch the nearest chair cushion and think to myself, "Damn them!"  
  
Realizing I haven't eaten anything in at least 24 hours, I go to 'my fridge' and find it is stocked, but not with my usual stuff. It is filled with health food and water. "Aw crap." I say and take some orange juice and grab an apple to eat.   
  
Suddenly I hear a knock on my door and it opens. Bobby enters, looking very, very nervous. "Hi, Darien. How are you doing, pal?" he asks, making me realize how desperate my situation is, by him calling me Darien.  
  
Answering, I say, "Oh, just great. Got any good junk food on you?"  
  
Looking uncomfortable, Bobby shakes his head no and his eyes are filled with inner pain. He knows his every move is being monitored by the Official and 'by me'!  
  
The Official comes on the speaker, making Bobby jump almost out of his skin, and says, "Mr. Hobbes, please leave NOW!" And Bobby, terrified and looking lost, beats the sound barrier away from me, too frightened to say anything to me.  
  
"No, Mr. Fawkes, ALL your needs, dietary and otherwise, are provided for. There will be no deviation from your schedule. We cannot take the chance of tampering with science. You will eat what is provided and we will keep you healthy." And I feel a shock, but it is almost painless. Just a little reminder!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
CHAPTER SIX  
A LITTLE VACATION  
  
  
  
Becoming angry, I yell, "How the hell are you doing that? I don't see any wires on or around me or anything. Please tell me?"  
  
In answer, I get another shock, stronger and longer than before. While recovering, the Official begins talking, sounding quite pleased with himself, "Ok, DF-37, besides the monitoring capabilities of the microchip, it is capable of shocking you whenever I press a certain button on my desk. So, in other words, you are an electric socket and I can turn you on anytime I want. See, you are not only a walking, talking television. We may try changing channels one of these days," and he laughs.   
  
While I sit there, shocked and freaking out, I am shocked, much stronger than before, and I scream in agony and jerk like a puppet on a string.  
  
Falling on the floor, exhausted but still writhing in pain, I am too depressed and weak to respond. After what feels like forever, I say, very respectful and frightened, "Sir, why are you torturing me? I know you are angry, but I don't think I deserve this-this experimentation and torture."  
  
Getting no answer, I lay on the floor, waiting for the discomfort to stop. Finally able to sit up, I realize the Official is not going to bother answering. Thinking to myself, "Why should he answer me? I'm nothing more than a toy to be played with?" and I go over to the sink and splash cold water on my face.  
  
Deciding to check out my body for any obvious signs of the "socket", I strip and examine my naked form in my full-length mirror. Other than various wounds healing and healed, I don't see anything out of the ordinary until I get to my navel. There appears to be a small puncture wound right next to it and when I touch it, I feel the tip of a wire, but as I try to pull or move it anyway, I get very nauseous and feel intense pain.  
  
Realizing this must be the socket, and not caring that I am being observed, I stupidly decide to wet it, forgetting completely that water is an excellent conductor of electricity!  
  
All of a sudden, I feel an intense shock and fall to the floor, realizing, too late, that my heart is stopping. Losing consciousness, I say to myself, "You idiot, you just killed yourself!"  
  
The Official, having seen and anticipated what Darien was doing, has called for help. I am again 'saved', but this time I have an IV and am hooked up to an EKG, monitoring my heart. And even to my untrained eye, my heart is beating much too fast and erratically, with weird looking spikes every few seconds. Not only can I see it, I can definitely feel the palpitations and pain that accompanies it.  
  
As I lay on the bed, mesmerized by the EKG and glancing at my tattoo, I try to make some sense out of the last 3 days of my life. I realize that Bobby and, probably, Claire are only ones I could ever trust and know if anyone could help me, they would. But, believe me, this is as possible as is the earth changing its rotation.  
  
  
  
  
CHAPTER SEVEN  
FRIENDS  
  
  
  
What I didn't realize was that Claire and Bobby were having problems of their own, but were still trying to help me.  
  
Bobby was forced to assist Eberts in seemingly endless paperwork by transferring old records to computer. He was beginning to really hate Eberts more than the Official. And he KNEW he hated computers more than ever.  
  
Meanwhile, Claire, having been remove from the I-man project, had been reassigned to doing research into biochemical weaponry, something she really felt uncomfortable with. While she hated what had been done to me, she had really found the project to be the most interesting one she had ever been on. Probably mainly because of Darien, and she smiled to herself just thinking of him.  
  
While I was recovering from my self-induced heart attack, of which Claire and Bobby were completely unaware; they were both figuring a way to get together and devise a plan for escape for all of us from this nightmare.  
  
They had no idea what was happening to me, nor did I know what was going on with them. Even though I hoped they would be there for me, the pessimist in me rebelled against those thoughts.  
  
Lying on that bed with the IV in my arm and my heart quickly {quicker than I wished} returning to normal, I began to think of what had happened.  
  
Still unable to make any sense of the past 3 days, ~~it had all started so damn innocently, man! And getting really angry, I yell at the top of my lungs, "I WISH I WERE DEAD! HEY, Official sir, why not kill me, harvest the damn gland and get it the fuck over with?"  
  
CHAPTER EIGHT  
ALONE  
  
  
  
The Official enters my line of vision and says, "Now, Darien, (and I am immediately shocked and suspicious, esp. since he is smiling, too) don't talk like that. You know, you are too important for that to happen."   
  
I look at him and laugh, bitterly, and say, "Sir, you ARE full of shit. Just a day and half ago you called me a nonentity and now I'm a person to you again. Sorry, but I don't believe you. You just want to have some more fun with you lab rat. You are softening me up for something."  
  
The Official drops the act and answers, "Ok, DF-37, I tried to be nice. According to the doctor, you are more than ready for our real experiment. And if you'd been willing and compliant it would have prevented YOU a lot of pain and you would have been allowed to know what is going on. Now, sorry, Fawkes, but your rest is over." And with that he snaps his fingers and 2 goons come in with the doctors.  
  
While one of the doctors discontinues the IV the other one removes the EKG leads. My vital signs are taken and reported as: "The subject's vital signs are within normal limits." One of the doctors then roughly forces my mouth open and instructs me to say "Aah" and then states; "The subject appears ready, sir."  
  
Suddenly I am ordered to stand. Still weak, I attempt to do as ordered only to get dizzy and feel faint. Slumping down, I am roughly lifted and dragged over to the scale. They let me get my bearings and then I am told to stand as still as possible. My weight is recorded as 165 pounds. "Excellent" says one of the 'nameless' doctors.  
  
Pushed into a waiting wheelchair, they transport me to the Keep and assist me into "the dentist chair,' at which I resist and am tranq'd. When I awake, I see I am strapped in, again!  
  
Suddenly the lights go off and I realize I have been left here alone, knowing I am doomed to spend the night here. This is JUST too much and I finally give into my emotions and cry. I feel totally abandoned and forgotten, just like when my father left and mom died!  
  
Finally drifting into a fitful sleep, I dream I am in a park, laughing and happy. Claire is beside me pushing a baby carriage and she looks happy, too. Suddenly the baby cries and we stop. I bend down to check on "our child" and scream. There is NO child, but a miniature quicksilver gland in the carriage reaching out its tentacles to me. It is saying, C'mon Darien we need to increase our species and you are our cache. I eventually am able to straighten up and as I do I see Claire, Bobby, Alex, Eberts, the Official, Kevin, Arnaud, and all of Chrysalis grabbing for me and laughing. They all have glands in their hands. Next I am on a surgical table with glands stuck all over me, including my ears, nose, eyes, and mouth. And not only am I invisible, but I can see through walls, read minds, do weird things to people and things, and am completely unable to control any of it. I finally wake up, screaming, still in the dark and alone. But I am never really alone, not since I am a walking talking TV as the Official called me.  
  
Having been alone for most of my life, I didn't mind being alone. It was the complete and utter darkness that completely unnerved me. I lay there, crying the rest of the night away.  
  
CHAPTER NINE  
CLEAR AS GLASS  
  
  
  
Finally hearing someone at the door, I tried to compose myself and pretended to be asleep. The lights came on and I surreptitiously watched my 'new Keepers' preparing some pretty scary looking apparatus. Without any idea what it was, I involuntarily gasped, making them aware of my consciousness.  
  
"Well, well,' says one of the doctors, "DF-37 is awake. Have a good night, Mr. guinea pig?" And I refuse to answer. "Oh, don't worry, subject." And he starts a video, showing me squirming, writhing and screaming and then crying for the rest of it. They all begin to laugh at me, while I am fully humiliated and feel totally dehumanized!  
  
The Dr. A {I've decided the taller one is Dr. A, the fat one Dr. B, the black one Dr. C, and the short one Dr. D} records the following: "Subject DF-37 spent his first night is seclusion, experiencing nightmares, causing severe anxiety and fear, but did not quicksilver. Apparently subject is able to consciously control the quicksilver secretions well enough even in sleep. This is to be studied further but first we must study his responses to the real test. End recording."  
  
I look from Dr. A to the apparatus and begin trying to escape, but of course I can't. I am then assisted from the chair to a stretcher and strapped in, again. They then start 2 IV's and patch electrodes on my head to monitor brain waves. But in reality, these are probably to monitor the all important gland. I suddenly begin to feel numb but am fully alert.  
  
Dr. B tells me, "Ok, DF-37, we know you are feeling numb, but you should be able to talk. Is this true?"  
  
Feeling like I have a mouthful of cotton, I manage a jumbled "Yes. What are you going to do to me now? How much more do you think I can take?"  
  
Dr. A sarcastically answers, "Personally DF-37, we don't really care how much more you can emotionally handle. You are NOTHING more than a specimen to us. We even hope you physically last longer than we have theorized possible.  
  
It then completely dawned on me that to these 4 learned men of science, I am only as important as a lab rat. I may be considered one of their glass slides, but my real importance lies at the base of my skull, imbedded in my cerebral cortex. AND THAT IS ALL!! This has got to be the worst thing that has ever happened to me. This is 10x worse than my father's abandoning me, or my brother, Kevin, even implanting the damn gland. Man, at least they both did once have real feelings for me. And I began to feel like I am NOT human anymore and I say, "Whatever. I guess the gland really did take my humanness away. I am nothing more than a glass slide to you, right?"  
  
Dr. B looks down at me and says, "Well, in reality you are right. We are learning a great deal about the QS 9300. Yes, I never thought of it, but, yes, you are probably as important as a glass slide, although not as fragile, right? We never even thought you were that important. I'm sure that should make you feel a bit better." And he pats me on the shoulder, which for some reason causes me pain.  
  
I just glare at them all, refusing to answer, but I think to myself, "Oh, yeah, I feel 100% better. I wonder what he meant about the fragile part, but I'm too damn scared to ask. I'm sure I'll find out too soon enough."  
  
  
CHAPTER TEN  
METAMORPHOSIS  
  
  
  
Dr. C begins to inject something into the IV in my left arm, causing me to feel a warm sensation to spread over me, making me feel at ease, although I don't think it'll last.  
  
How right I am. I am then instructed to open my mouth as wide as possible, which feeling as numb and relaxed as I do, is rather difficult, but after a while, I do as ordered.   
  
The dreaded apparatus is then placed over me. Now that I see it close up, I realize it is an old-fashioned x-ray machine they used to use for cancer treatment. It has an extremely wide tube and attached to the open end is a sharp looking instrument of some sort. I stare up at it, terrified, yet curious.  
  
Suddenly I hear a whirring sound and I see the tube lower and enter my mouth, causing my mouth to way overstretch. It then stops. I can feel the "knife" tearing through my windpipe and taste blood. Suddenly the "knife" is physically removed by Dr. D with his bare hands. He just reached into the tube and me and pulled, causing excruciatingly intense pain and damage.  
  
The longer the tube is left in me, the more pain and fear I feel. I feel like all my teeth are loosening and my tongue feels so weird, I am sure it will come out with the tube. Every once in a while, the tube turns, causing my mouth and insides to contort in a most, I'm certain, abnormal way.  
  
While this is going on, they decide to operate on my abdomen, naturally without an anesthetic.   
  
The pain is intense and unable to scream, I suddenly quicksilver, due to all the emotional stress. I am immediately sorry, for this has only caused the apparatus to speed up for some reason and the pain increases. I rematerialize back to a world full of pain, hate and fear.   
  
I then feel something being introduced into my abdomen and become nauseous, but of course there is no way I can puke. I then feel my belly being sewn up and hear 'drumming' and suddenly realize someone is using ME as 'a drum.' The 'music' stops, but I know that whatever was just introduced into my abdomen was not something a human should have in their body.  
  
Praying for death, I then feel my legs becoming very itchy, but with no way to relieve it. They were really having fun with me-I suddenly see dozens of ants all over my body, causing intense itchiness all over.  
I wonder if they are having a picnic and using me as the table? and realize I am either entering QSM or finally really losing my mind.  
  
They then inject my other IV with a cream colored solution and almost immediately all my numbness is gone, replaced by intense pain. With the machine still in me, I could do nothing by writhe and cry, all the while feeling my life ebbing away. Maybe now I'll finally get some peace!  
  
Suddenly the apparatus is removed from my mouth, surprisingly leaving my teeth and tongue in place. My mouth is clamped by Dr. C and held in place for a few minutes. Finally letting go, I am ordered to move my mouth around normally and am shocked when I am able to do so, although it is very stiff and painful.  
A mirror is then thrust in front of me and I am shown how my body has been changed. CHANGED!! They have made me a monster! Shocked, I see that my torso no longer looks human, but rectangular. "THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE?" I yell and look around and say, "That is an optical illusion, right?" and laugh, hoping against hope. Again looking in the mirror, I see 'my abdomen' is about the size of a pc box and there was a hose coming out of his navel hooked up to a container of who knows what. I tried to move but found I was still strapped and unable to escape in any way.  
  
Dr. A says, "No, DF-37, this is no optical illusion. This is the experiment Mr. Borden was referring to. And there is no sense in resistance-that could only cause us to have start all over again-and I don't think you'd like that, would you?"   
  
Nodding my head no, I closed my eyes, trying not to think about anything at all. Suddenly I heard a whooshing sound and opened my eyes, only to realize that the hose connected to the container was draining into me. Mesmerized by the 25-gallon tank showing 5 gallons so far and working on 6 I am surprised I don't feel full or even near. The only thing I do feel is warm, and weird. I can also hear it entering my body and slapping against the sides of my rectangular abdomen. It feels like waves of an ocean. In fact, that is what this reminds me of-a river flowing into the ocean. And I guess I am the ocean Darien, huh?  
  
Looking away from the tank, after seeing I have 12 gallons to go, I look at the team and listen to their conversation. According to them, I will be filled with the 25 gallons within 20 minutes and there are still 5 hours to go. This has been going on for 4 hours already!  
  
Dr. A recording, "The filling has been going on for more than 4 hours now, with 15 minutes and 8 gallons to go to reach the 25 gallon limit. I am really surprised the subject has survived. Perhaps the gland has increased his tolerance-this is to be explored further at a later date. The abdominal receptacle will be less than 3/4 full, though. We will explore options for complete filling when the time comes. Subject has responded as expected, although invisibility occurred for 3 minutes during the initial abdominal incision, which was unremarkable but interesting nonetheless. As soon as the filling is complete, it will be ordered to quicksilver and we will begin the testing.  
  
Hearing myself called 'it' is a bit of a shock, though I don't really know why, and say to myself, "I guess that really makes me a nonentity, now. At least, I know I can control whether I go see-through. AND I HAVE NO INTENTION OF DOING SO FOR YOU, YOU BASTARDS!"  
  
Suddenly I hear an alarm go off, and look at the container and see it is empty and I see my 'hose' has stopped. Dr. D removes the hose roughly from my navel and inserts a measuring stick into my navel, causing me to yell out in pain. "Well, am I full? Or do I still need a quart of oil?"  
  
Without answering or acknowledging me in any way, he says, "The subject has 25 gallons and according to this may be capable of holding at least 2-5 more gallons."  
  
Freaking out, I yell, "NO WAY! I won't let you fill me with anything else. By the way, what the hell did you fill me with? And, oh, yeah, no way am I going to quicksilver for you sons of bitches!"  
  
They just look at me like I don't even exist, and go on with their work. Dr. C leaves and returns with a cage full of spiders and my mind reels, while I stare at the monsters coming toward me.  
  
Trying to control my fear as Dr. C comes closer, I am still visible. But the closer he comes, the harder it is for me to control it. In a heartbeat, Dr. C is next to me opening the cage and 1 or 2 of the fearsome spiders begin to crawl out and onto my arm. I am now sweating profusely and shaking with fear, but am able to stay visible until the spiders begin to crawl onto my chest, and I can't help it, I shoom out, and the spiders fly off in fear. At first, only my legs, arms, and chest and head go invisible, but 'my torso' stays stubbornly visible, and in doing so, is quite painful.   
  
Donning their thermals, Dr. B says, "DF-37, please quicksilver the rest of the instruments. These are NOW a part of you. Remember you are NOT human and these are just an extension of you (or should I say it)" And realizing the truth of this, I concentrate and am finally able to quicksilver the 'rest of me.'  
  
Smiling in triumph, the team clap and Dr. D records, Subject DF-37is truly remarkable. He, not only, quicksilvered himself and the tube, but was able to quicksilver the entire IN-8050 without touching it at all, just by sheer concentration and will power alone. Truly an amazing subject and one we can do much with."  
  
  
CHAPTER ELEVEN  
FRIENDS INDEED  
  
  
  
While I was having my humanity taken away from me, Claire, through an unknown hacker, had learned of my plight. Shocked beyond belief, she contacted Bobby and filled him in, while at lunch. Eberts had been called away, giving Hobbes a much needed break.  
  
Neither are able to eat, but... Claire says, "Bobby, we HAVE got to do something. I think the Official as definitely gone over the edge. I can't believe he would condone, much less order, something like this. This just may be coming from someone else! I mean, I know he can be cold and all, but he always had a special place for you and Darien, and you know it. "  
  
"Yeah, right." Bobby responds, " Sorry, but I disagree. I'm shocked by this weird behavior, too, but I don't think he just finally went over the edge. This is too planned out to be impulsive. I think Borden is taking an insane pleasure out on Darien, in response to Darien's attitude and arrogance. Remember how he reacted to Darien the day this all started? I agree, we have to do something to help Darien, but I don't know what. Do you have any ideas, Claire?"  
  
And Claire, looking pensive, says, "Not off the top of my head, no, but I would love to get into the Keep, but I've been told it's now off limits. I think that is where Darien is being kept." And she started to cry, saying, "Oh, my poor Darien. He used to hate the Keep so much because of the counteragent and his dependency on it. Now what must he think of it and of me?"  
  
Bobby, uncomfortable with her being so upset, just sits there and stares at his uneaten salad. Finally he says, "Look, Claire, I've an idea but it is sort of radical. We will need to get into the Keep, right? (And she nods her head yes, wiping her eyes). Well, here's my idea. It is dangerous, but I think we are running on borrowed time here and Darien, well, I think his time is more than borrowed at this point. I know of a certain person who can get in anywhere and he is willing to help us. Plus this guy owes me a favor and is willing to take chances that not even Fawkesie would take. You may not believe this, but he is crazier than Darien, if that's possible. So what do you think? Just give me the word and I'll call him. He lives in Toronto, but he promised me he could be here within 2 hours, don't ask how, but he will be."  
Claire, looking hopeful but frightened, says, "I don't know, it takes more than 2 hours to get to San Diego from Canada, Bobby. Are you sure you can trust him? I mean, does he know about Darien's talent?"   
  
Bobby, assuring her he does, says, "Oh, believe me, Nick does. He has a very special talent of his own, and he's a cop. In fact, I would venture to say that Nick's special talent would definitely be an asset to us." And he laughs, thinking of the revenge that he has planned for the Official, and he has already asked Nick to kill him and not bring him over. He's worse than LaCroix! Claire, looking puzzled, says, "What's the joke? I need a good laugh." Bobby replies, "Oh, just thinking about Nick. We've had some really fun times. Oh, another thing, he ONLY works at night, which is why I think we'll succeed. He has some kind of weird allergy to the sun."  
  
Suddenly he attacks the salad and says, "Now that I know Darien is gonna be ok, I'm hungry." and Claire is able to eat a bit, too.   
  
Between bites, she says, "Yes, I think you should call your friend as soon as possible. From what I've been able to find out, they have filled Darien with some kind of solution and are experimenting on him as we talk. They have also distorted his body image both physically and mentally, as well as made him go quicksilver involuntarily. From my source, he is quicksilver at this time and I don't know when he will be allowed to rematerialize. So, yes, time is of the essence. I'm also going to try to find out who my hacker friend is and see if we can get him to help. I've a feeling we both know him quite well." and she smiles.  
  
Bobby, dropping his fork, says, spluttering, "You don't mean to say you think it's Eberts, too? Who the hell else would it be? I never thought the little nerd had it in him. Tell him I thank him. Ok? But now, let's get back to work, before his Nuttiness decides to punish us. Oh, one thing, what about that crazy monitoring thing in Darien? He could never live like that, he WOULD kill himself if he thought he was BIG BROTHER to himself or others."  
  
Claire says, "Well we'll just have to cross that bridge when we get to it. But I wonder if that's already gone seeing what they've done to his body. That was just another excuse for hurting Darien, I think.  
Personally, Bobby, I find it impossible to believe someone could be turned into a "walking, talking television" as the Official claimed to have done to Darien. It was a psychological mindgame, and one of many played on poor Darien, that the Official used. He was definitely monitored, but I'm very doubtful if it was an eternal system. Especially when the Official claimed Darien had swallowed it-c'mon now, didn't that sound a little weird, even to you?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess so. I guess the crazy man got into my head, too. I snuck a visit to Darien and I swear I felt like his body had eyes staring at me from his head to his toes. Poor guy, I could see he knew how scared I was of him. Man, I've NEVER felt that way about him, even when he was QSM'd. How will I ever make it up to him?" And Bobby frowns thinking of all the hell Darien's been through.  
  
Claire, getting up from the table, says, "Well, look, Bobby, I don't really know how to assuage any of yours or my guilt feelings, but if your cop friend can help us, then we may be able to solve all our problems. I just hope Darien's head isn't too screwed up from all of this." and she leaves, with Bobby following and both go to their respective offices.  
  
  
CHAPTER TWELVE  
A SEED IS SOWN   
  
  
  
As soon as Bobby got back to his office, he called Nick, realizing he would only get his machine, but that meant Nick would be there this evening. After listening to the message machine, Bobby said, "Hi Nick, old pal! It's Hobbes, and it is ON. Remember what we talked about last night, well, see you ASAP at my apartment. I'll wait up for you!" And he hangs up and says, "Don't give up, Fawkes. Nick and I will get you away from the bastards! And Borden will get what he deserves."  
At 7pm, Nick listens to his messages and when he gets to Bobby's, he begins to prepare for his trip to California. Realizing he will have to 'fly' he downs an extra bottle of cow blood for reserve energy. He calls his partner and tells Tracey that he has a family emergency in America and needs to take an extended leave of absence, saying, "I've left a message with dispatch and am going to go see Nat before I leave. She kind of knew I was having some family problems and she 'll be able to get in touch with me in an emergency, Ok?" Tracey accepts this and wishes him good luck. Hanging up, he takes one last check and leaves.  
  
Arriving at Nat's, he, as usual, wishes he could stay with her forever, but... this time he feels different. He genuinely feels good, realizing that for once he will really be helping someone right an injustice not caused by LaCroix. Nat, smiling until she realizes he is prepared for a 'trip', frowns and says, "What is it, Nick? Has something happened?"  
  
"Yes, Natalie, it has. Remember my friends Bobby Hobbes and Darien Fawkes?" Seeing she doesn't, he reminds her by saying, "Remember, Darien went see-through," and she nods her head and laughs, remembering how shocked she was, at first. "Well," he continues, "Seems Darien has been captured by some mad scientists in his OWN agency and they are experimenting on him. Bobby has enlisted my aid and special talent to help and I am going there tonight. Don't try to talk me out of it, I need to do this. If you remember, he saved my life, if it hadn't for Fawkes quicksilvering me that morning I would have burned-remember? I was unconscious and lying on a beach! So, I have to do this, if only to repay the favor. But I am doing this to help a friend, I'm sure you understand?"  
  
And, Natalie, remembering with horror, what Nick is referring to, says, "Yes, Nick, I do remember. And I thank God every day you are here for me. But you are definitely putting yourself in danger by doing this. What if you get caught in the daylight again? You must plan your strategy carefully. And be careful about Darien. Remember what he told us about quicksilver madness. He may even be capable of hurting you in that. I will cover for you, but please come back to me." And they kiss. He hands her his car keys, and says, Ok, I will, my love." And he leaves and goes to the roof for his 'flight to San Diego.'  
  
  
CHAPTER THIRTEEN  
NICK'S ARRIVAL  
  
  
  
  
While Nick was heading west toward my salvation, I was literally overflowing and invisible. Those bastards had filled my body with whatever that liquid was until I could hold no more and they continued, even when it was pouring out of my body, from every opening of my body and I mean that sincerely. I could feel the liquid all around me, but I didn't realize what was happening until they ordered me to rematerialize and I was able to observe my self. I was shocked, and looked in disbelief. I didn't look like a human being anymore; I looked like some kind of giant flesh colored sponge that had sprung leaks. My abdomen had shrunk back to normal, but still looked rectangular. I felt nauseous and thirsty all at the same time, but couldn't do anything about it, because the liquid was oozing out of my mouth, too! I couldn't move because I was so waterlogged. I truly felt inhuman, but didn't have any idea what I was or had become.  
  
I could hear the 'scientists' talking in the background. One of them was recording their findings, saying, "Subject DF-37 has been filled with 31 gallons of desalinized ocean water and was able to contain said amount for 4 hours before springing leaks. It is now spewing water at the average rate of 1 gallon per hour and has been going on for 90 minutes, so at this rate, the subject should be drained of all water and fluid within 35 hours, and we will then harvest the gland, and continue experimenting on the host. Of course, at that time it will no longer be a living host, but life-support shall be instituted for as long as necessary. Counteragent is being continuously introduced thus preventing the danger of quicksilver madness. Subject is now visible and quite aware of what is happening, but unable to stop it or respond. It is really quite an interesting site-subject in some ways resembles a fountain in a park."  
  
Upon hearing this, I say to myself, "Well, that's it Darien, not only are you dying, but you are a source of amusement for these assholes. God, please put me out of my misery." The pain is constant but bearable, it is just a pinprick compared to the draining I am feeling. I know they are right, I'm sure my blood and other bodily fluids are being drained, too. Suddenly, I think of Nick Knight, my Canadian friend, and laugh silently. He would have been able to have himself a little invisible man snack, free, just for the asking.  
  
I had no idea of the time, but if I did I would have smiled. It was about 11 pm and Bobby and Nick were already formulating my escape. I've been 'flowing' for 3 hours and feeling more and more exhausted and weak. I was now visible. I was also being poked and prodded by these fools. They seemed to be doing this just for fun-I heard alot of light hearted bantering going on, all at my expense, of course.  
  
Suddenly, the window above my head exploded and someone or something came flying in. In a flash, I saw a long black leather coat fly by me and a smile I recognized as my friend, Nick Knight. Bobby, thank his balding little head, must have called our friendly nearby vampire. I saw Bobby enter with Claire, who ran over to me and I tried to smile at her, but all she got was wet.  
  
I heard shouts, and shots and screams, but couldn't see what was going on. All I could do was listen and be utterly useless. I felt even more worthless, esp. since my friends were all trying so hard to help me.   
  
Suddenly I felt my body. I was still wet, but no longer spewing water from everywhere. In fact, I wasn't dripping any water at all. But I didn't feel like I was filling up, either. Trying to make sense of this new situation, I tried to sit up and, although extremely weak, found I was able to. Claire came running over to assist me, saying, "It's ok, Darien. It's over. Borden is dead-we tried to get him to surrender but he gave us no choice. Nick and Bobby have your captors in tow and you are free! I know you have been through hell and back and through it again at least twice and I AM SORRY! But I promise you IT IS OVER!"  
  
And trying to assimilate all that, I say through a mouth that feels like it is waterlogged and brilloed at the same time, "Thank God, Claire! Physically it was the worst, but mentally, it will NEVER be over. I am NOTHING-I have no identity and no will to try to get my life back. I wish I were dead. Nick, I'm sure you understand how I feel."  
  
And Nick, looking at me, says, "Yes, Darien, I do understand but I've learned over the centuries not to give up. One of your great leaders once said, "A man who won't die for something is not fit for life." Well, let me paraphrase that a bit for you, Darien, for it fits you very well. A man who won't live for something is not fit to die. And you are certainly far too important to give up your life just because of the gland. I really do believe God has a purpose for all of us (Yes, I DO believe in God) and you would NOT have been given the gland were it not God's purpose for you. Just as I would not have become a vampire-I believe this is why I've chosen to help mankind as a police officer. We each fulfill our destiny as we feel, but it is truly God's plan for us that we are really doing.  
  
Bobby, assisting me to a wheelchair, says, "Amen to that, Nick. Thanks so much for the help. I guess you and Darien are even now, huh?"  
  
Claire, taking my vital signs, is smiling so much I can't help but smile, too. She tells everyone that my vitals are a bit low, but ok. She informs me I will need at least 2-2 1/2 pints of blood and IV fluid for replacement. I am severely dehydrated. I look at her in fear and say, "NO more needles or being filled. NO NO!" and I start to tremble and cry. Claire immediately regretting how she made her diagnosis, hugs me and says, "Darien, you are not going to be filled or tortured anymore. This is necessary or you could die. They used desalinated ocean water and this has caused a severe depletion of your cells. I am truly surprised you are not in pain, or are you? Your cells are dying of dehydration as we speak. Please let me make you better."  
  
And I look at her, realizing she is right and nod my head yes. Transporting me to lab #3, Nick and Bobby assist onto my bed and Claire prepares the IV's and blood.  
  
I look over to Nick, seeing it is nearly daybreak and see he is staring at the blood going into my veins. I can see he is 'hungry' but is fighting it. He is biting his own hand and licking the blood hungrily. Suddenly his eyes glaze over and he runs out of the room. Bobby runs after him. yelling, "Nick, come back here."  
  
Bobby finds him in the morgue, draining Borden's blood. Relieved, he says, "Ok, Nick, enjoy. At least the Official did something good for somebody. I'll see you back in lab #3." Nick, calmer and more sane, says, "Ok, Hobbes, sorry about this. Seeing Darien get the transfusion was a bit too much. I will be going undercover when I get done here-I'll see you tonite, ok?" "No prob, Nick. Sleep well."  
  
Bobby returns to find me smiling and joking around with Claire and Eberts. Turns out Eberts was the hacker and is now the unofficial Official. I am feeling much better, physically. I don't know if I'll ever feel 100% mentally, but I do know I am a person, have friends and I DO COUNT. I am not just a receptacle for the gland and my life is much more important to my friends than my ability to quicksilver.  
  
Suddenly, feeling exhausted, I lay back down on the bed and say, as I drift off, "Bobby, Thank you so much for never giving up on me. Eberts, my man, thanks for being there for me, too. And Claire, what can I say? I'm sorry I ever doubted you-I WILL never again believe you care more for the gland than me. And I'll thank Nick when I see him tonite. I can't believe he did this for me, man, I don't think we are quite even Bobby, this is more than I ever did for him." And I drift off to sleep, able to rest, knowing my friends (NO, my family) will be there for me when I wake up later and for many years to come.  
  
I wake up refreshed, look around and see Claire and Bobby watching me and smiling. I ask where Nick is, realizing it is evening and he comes out of the bathroom, smiling at me. I feel refreshed, but still questions are in my mind.  
  
I say, carefully, to Eberts, "Eberts, a couple of questions. What the hell is going on? Is it still true that I have no identity or what? Please, I have to know. Am I still nothing more than a lab rat?"  
  
Bobby answers, "Let me tell Darien, Al. No, Fawkes, you are Darien G. Fawkes, born June 27, 1968. Eberts, da man, has reestablished your identity in all data banks of the US government and businesses, including your prison record. So YOU ARE BACK among the living, my man!"  
  
Laughing joyously, I say, "Hey, Eberts, you could've left out the prison bit, you know."  
  
Eberts, looking uncomfortable, says, "No, Mr. Fawkes, I couldn't. That would have been lying. And you know, government employees never lie."  
  
And we, including Nick, all laugh and enjoy the rest of the evening. I don't know how long my recovery will take, but I am sure of one thing, when I am better, I will still be Darien G. Fawkes, the one-time thief, working for government and with the best friends a person, yes, a person, could ever ask for.  
  
FINIS 


End file.
